


The First Hunt

by WetSammyWinchester



Series: Swesson Love Week 2016 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wonder what happened to Dean Smith and Sam Wesson after their first hunt?</p><p>Swesson Love Week, open prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Hunt

Dean walked out of the steamy motel bathroom, toweling his hair dry, to the sight of Sam scrunching up his face at one of the queen-sized beds.

“Dude, there’s some kind of stain on my bedspread.”

The adrenaline high of their first hunt was wearing off and all Dean wanted was to lay down and lose consciousness. “Yeah, well, this ain’t the Ritz.”

He pulled back the sheets on his bed and fell face first into the pillows. He waited for a few minutes, expecting to hear the same thing from the other side of the room. Sam had to be tired too, and bruised on his back from where that ghost threw him over the couch. When he didn’t hear any movement, Dean cracked one eye open.

Sam was still standing at the foot of the bed in his pajama pants, scratching his head and staring at the hideous floral nightmare covering the other bed.

Dean sighed. “Fine, whatever. You can share with me tonight if you promise to go right to sleep.” Dean closed his eye once more and felt Sam slide under the sheets next to him. It was blissfully silent for 10 seconds before Sam sat up with his back to the headboard.

“You have to admit, that was the coolest thing ever. The way that ghost materialized on the stairs. And you were amazing with that shotgun. Just like a professional. Guess those salt rounds really work.” As Sam babbled, Dean could feel the guy’s feet jiggling back and forth, whacking his knee every other second. It was like trying to sleep next to an overgrown six-year-old who ate too much candy on Halloween.

“Sam, go to sleep.” Dean flipped over on his side away from his bedmate and curled tight around his pillow.

“Yeah, ok, Dean. Sorry.” Sam squirmed back down under the covers and turned to face Dean’s back. Even from a foot away, he could feel the heat radiating from Sam. It was kind of nice, like having a gigantic hot water bottle next to him.

This time, the silence lasted 15 seconds. “Your hair still smells like smoke. Not much, just a little.”

Dean flopped on his back with a dramatic sigh. “Sam…” and that’s when his ridiculously good-looking hot water bottle threw an enormous leg over Dean.

“Can’t help it. You’re too far away.” One of Sam’s equally enormous hands wormed its way across Dean’s arm, coming to rest in the middle of his chest. “You were, you know. Amazing, that is. When that thing tossed me across the room, I was really worried.”

“Well, yeah. It coulda cracked your skull.” Dean joked but felt his heart squeeze at the thought of seeing Sam unconscious and unresponsive, or worse. He patted the hand that lay on his chest and let his fingers come to rest on top of it.

“Yeah, I get that, Dean. But all I could think about when I was laying on that living room floor was how I let you down.” Sam dipped his head, bringing it to rest next to his hand, as if he were listening to Dean’s heartbeat, reassuring himself that everything was alright. “Something could have happened to you and I would have been useless.”

Dean curled his arm around Sam’s back and began to stroke his hand up and down the muscles, fingertips rubbing circles where Sam hit the couch with his lower back. “That didn’t happen, okay? You would never let me down.”

He kissed Sam’s forehead as if saying good night, but Dean’s fingers found the waistband of the cotton pajamas and he was distracted by the soft curve of warm flesh there. Sam had a beautiful body but this spot right here? Where his slim waist blossomed into the most beautiful ass Dean had ever seen? Angels must weep when they think of its perfection.

His hand slipped under the elastic, fingertips continuing to rub softly. Sam hummed in approval and Dean wondered if the touch would coax him into a well-deserved sleep, which would be ironic, considering how Dean’s own exhaustion had washed away.

The humming sound from Sam was now accompanied by a subtle rocking motion and a growing pressure where Sam’s cock was rubbing against his thigh. Dean’s immediate response was to spread his fingers and cup Sam’s ass. When Sam’s breath began to speed up, Dean continued to press them together which caused those breaths to hitch in the back of Sam’s throat, and he could become addicted to hearing that sound over and over.

“Maybe I should just let you go to bed now?” Dean teased.

Sam growled and rolled over, his cock on top of Dean’s thigh and his knee slotted in under his balls. The sudden change in pressure and weight made Dean feel light headed, all the blood in his body heading to where their bodies met. Sam continued to rut against his leg and Dean took the time to study his face in the moonlight from their window. All anxiety was lost in that moment - no ghosts, no crap motel room, no worries about their future. Sam was just lost in the feel of their skin touching and their breath mixing.

His fond smile at Sam turned into a stuttered exhale, as his partner - no, boyfriend - now moved to straddle their hips, holding both of their cocks so easily in one of his hands. The slide of skin was initially dry (they weren’t thinking lube after a day like they had) but between precome and spit in Sam’s palm, it was just slick enough to feel good.

Given all that happened to them during today’s hunt, Dean knew this would be over quickly. Sam leaned up to capture Dean’s lips just as he came, spilling thick and warm over his hand, the dribble gathering around Dean’s cock. Sam’s fingers tightened around both lengths in the moment, which had Dean following close behind.

Sam fell heavily on his back next to Dean on the mattress, eyes finally fluttering in fatigue.

“We should make this part of our celebration after each hunt, right?” Dean looked over at Sam, who was now snoring lightly.

Hunting might be a tough life, but this right here? This was something he could get used to.


End file.
